Game Point

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Game Point Page 9

by Malcolm Hollingdrake


  ***

  The farmyard was quiet. The cobbled square was still wet from the morning rain. A pungent odour lingered but those working there had become immune to the smell. Leaning on the far wall was a sheet of insulating board comprising thick, compressed foam. A small circle had been drawn as the target.

  The rifle was lifted to the shoulder and the shooter focussed through the cylindrical gun sight positioned along the top of the gun. The sight was carefully adjusted until the centre of the target circle corresponded with the cross hairs of the sight. A finger curled onto the trigger. There was a slight popping sound as the finger squeezed and then silence. A millisecond later a puff of yellowy-white dust erupted from the board’s surface as the dart buried itself deep into the soft, compacted foam. The dart had travelled forty yards and landed within the marked circle. A smile broke out on the shooter’s face; it was accurate enough for the task ahead.

  On inspection, the dart had penetrated the target leaving only the last quarter held in the foam. The rubber seals appeared intact. The rifle would not be fired again for three days. The dart and the other piece of spoke were placed in a box alongside the gun in the cabinet and the door was locked.

  From an upstairs window, a solitary female had watched the test and had received a thumb’s up. She turned to look at the large, muscular figure sitting at the table. His hands were spread flat out on the surface. Each nail on one hand was delicately painted a different colour. From between each finger, a gold chain ran to link with a bracelet that encircled his wrist. His feminine, homosexual persona was a disguise, a contradiction in visual terms that often proved to be a callous weapon. In many circles, Charles was known for his kindness and generosity but in others his reputation for cruelty, some might say pure evil, could not be underestimated; it would be a fool who judged this book by its cover. Both Coulson and Atkins would attest to that.

  “That went better than we’d hoped.” She crossed the room.

  He looked up, there was no reaction. The eyes with which she made contact were cold.

  “What we need now is to find Atkins’s computer. If it had been located already this place would have been swarming with police. It’s still out there. I’m overdue some remedial therapy at home.”

  Suddenly there was a pause and a smile spread across his sunburned face. With an almost effeminate lisp he spoke again, his tone was exaggeratedly camp.

  “The Mediterranean is so kind to my old bones at this time of year, whereas Yorkshire can be so cruel. Like the birds, darling, I need to fly!” He brought his hands up to his sides and flapped them gently. “Speaking of migratory birds, the new consignment is here and the farm is really efficient. I’d hate for us to close it down owing to the cuckoo we think is crowding the nest; cuckoos take so much feeding at the expense of everyone else, they simply have to be removed!”

  He returned his palms to the table and his facial expression changed yet again.

  “There were four illegals brought from the coast, this time at some considerable risk, it’s getting more and more difficult with Calais as it is. It used to be so civilized and now it’s just a bloody bun fight. Making fewer runs comprising fewer selected passengers is the only way to proceed in today’s climate and that makes me so cross.”

  Christina noted a real anger but failed to heed her observation before opening her mouth.

  “You’re not here just because of the internet creep or the possible fear of what that girl might report, that was already in hand, they’d have just disappeared. Isn’t this arsing about with spokes a little too theatrical, Charles?”

  It was a brave thing to say and as soon as she had said it she knew from the expression on Charles’ face that she had just crossed an invisible line. His demeanour changed as quickly as a heartbeat.

  “There’s more to this than what we have today, more than all of this.” He spread his hands as if encompassing the room and the surroundings. “Do you know how long I’ve worked in moving people and drugs? No you fucking don’t. Do you know how many times I’ve been caught and punished? No you fucking don’t. Do you know how many people I’ve killed with these?” He brought his hands together and held them out open-palmed. “No you fucking don’t but if you talk to me again like that I can assure you that there’ll be one more stain on them. My being here is not only professional but also very personal. I’m chasing a man and we go back a long way.”

  He paused. Christina felt the venom radiate across the table as his hands clenched into fists. Unconsciously, she took a step backwards.

  “He’s one interfering bastard who split my fine-tuned, inner circle of friends asunder, a circle which worked successfully for years and then he comes along… It would be so marvellous to strike and run, to be a shadow of the Grim Reaper and remove only his arrogant self-confidence. I plan to make the shit pay in guilt and I plan to make him live with the torment that guilt brings. I’ll make him realise that sometimes you can’t help those who most need it. I’ll crush him, crush him mentally. As time allows the guilt to fester, it will render him human waste and you’ll help me achieve that!”

  He lifted his eyes and stared at Christina. “I want the computers and I want the cuckoo but you know that already, bitch. Think on, I also want Bennett.”

  Christina leaned against the wall trying to compose herself. She moved her hands behind her in an endeavour to keep them from shaking before she summoned the courage to speak.

  “I’m sorry, Charles, please forgive me. We’ve people, shall we say, visiting the friends we found in Valerie Atkins’s address book on her phone. There’s nothing showing on her texts and she was very tidy with her emails. It’ll take time. Coulson made a classic error, it took just one slip. We knew it would happen eventually and that we’d locate him sooner or later. He just got too cocky, the bastard. The good thing was that finding him led us to locate Atkins. Letting him continue with his computer venom for a while enabled us to work on her, but we still can’t find the Judas figure, the one giving away our sensitive details, but we’ll find him.” She walked back to the window. “Besides, discovering Atkins’s different appetites was a bonus. We couldn’t get rid of her until we’d destroyed Coulson; you did that so well.”

  Her obsequious tone could have ignited more of his wrath but Charles’s expression had changed. He smiled and admired his fingernails. He suddenly recalled her earlier remark. “The videos were so theatrical and a real pleasure to watch. I just loved the masks… kinky… and as you all know, I adore kinky.”

  Christina was quick to see the pointed comment and moved towards him. It was now time to be placatory and more submissive, to play the game, as the term cuckoo clouded her mind.

  “I do listen… It’s all about patience, Charles, as you so often say. It’s all about waiting for the correct moment. The fear was that Coulson would go public as soon as he had anything concrete. He was close, especially when he became involved with Atkins.”

  Christina Cameron’s phone rang. Charles looked up and frowned.

  “It can only be the auction house.” She put her finger to her lips.

  “Hello.”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, Sylvia Bentham speaking. Thank you for getting back to me. Did you like the painting?... Good, good… so much? Why that’s more than Mr Crompton thought… yes, in the same auction if you would. Call me on this number? No, sorry I’m changing my phone contract so I’ll ring you with the new contact number and address before the auction if that’s all right… Good. Thanks for your trouble.”

  Christina removed the SIM card from the phone. “Once they’ve sold your murder weapons, they will no longer be a worry.” She checked her watch. “I need to get back.”

  Charles simply smiled holding, out his hand.

  “We have more from your Charles Horner collection I take it?” He emphasised the word ‘Charles’. “I doubt Bennett will see the connection until it’s all too late but we have to give him a sporting chance.”

 
Christina nodded and then passed him the SIM card. He put it in his mouth and swallowed it. “A boyfriend of mine should possibly be able to make a trunk call with that later.” He giggled as he left the room. For a big man he made mincing look so easy. Frightening, but easy.

  Chapter Eleven

  The dark blue Range Rover pulled up on Giles Street, Netherthong. It was 18:20 and already dark. The stone-built block of apartments resembled a small woollen mill situated in the heart of the village. The vehicle passed through the archway and was parked in one of the bays marked ‘Private’.

  “Number 13. Lucky for some but somehow I doubt it will be us today!” the driver called cheerily as he climbed from the vehicle.

  Karen Johnson opened the door keeping the security chain attached.

  “DS Sharples and this is DC Flint. Sorry to bother you but it’s about Valerie Atkins. Our colleagues in North Yorkshire Police have asked us to just clarify a few points from their meeting with you.” He held out a fake warrant card and smiled. “Nights are drawing in too quickly for my liking.” He flashed another smile and looked at his colleague, before swiftly hiding the fake ID.

  “It’ll only take a couple of minutes,” she said and smiled too.

  Karen slid the chain and opened the door. “I’m expecting my partner home any time now. A few minutes you say?”

  “When you were with Valerie on the weekend in Harrogate did she have her phone, iPad and computer with her?”

  “She had her phone and may well have had her iPad in her bag, it’s only the smaller one; as for her laptop definitely not. I can only confirm the phone.”

  “Could it have been in her hotel room? I believe you stayed over at…” he paused.

  “The Croft.”

  “Yes, thanks. I had it written here somewhere, forgive me.”

  “Maybe. I shared with Sheila Walsh. Nancy Anders and Gail Gough were in the other room. Val had her own so she could have. Couldn’t say for certain.”

  “We believe that the contents of her computers may hold the key as to why she died, but so far we’ve, or should I say our North Yorkshire colleagues, have yet to locate them. You spoke with whom at Harrogate?”

  Karen frowned at the question. “Graydon, yes a Detective Graydon.”

  DC Flint smiled. “Worked under her when she was in Merseyside Police.”

  A key was inserted into the lock. Karen smiled. “It’ll be Dan. He’s usually home earlier but they had a computer problem, strangely enough.”

  Dan was a little taken aback when he saw the two strangers.

  “It’s the police about Val, they’re just leaving.”

  Dan looked at them both and stood to one side to allow them to leave.

  “Wondered who’d parked in my space. Pity you didn’t read ‘Private Parking’. Big letters too, not hard to see.”

  “Sorry, we thought we’d be only a few minutes. Our apologies. Thanks for your time.”

  He kicked the door closed behind them. “What the bloody hell did they want?”

  “Val’s computers. They were sent to see me by Harrogate Police. They think that something stored on one of Val’s computers is the reason she was killed.”

  Dan frowned. He put a hand on each of her shoulders. “You’ve been interviewed before, did they ask you about them then?”

  “Think so, Christ it’s been so upsetting I can’t truly recall. Can we go to the pub for a drink, maybe something to eat? I just need to go out. Dan they didn’t know anything from the interview, they didn’t know the hotel and they asked who’d interviewed me. It just didn’t feel right. What could be on her computer to make someone kill her?”

  Dan held back the surge of panic and forced a smile before wrapping his arms around her. “You know how busy coppers are today, Christ, most don’t know if it’s Easter or Pentecost! Pub sounds good. I need a shower.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom and looked for Karen’s bag. He took out her purse and found the card she’d been given by Harrogate Police. He dialled the mobile number.

  “DS Graydon.” Liz was just clearing her desk; it had been a long day.

  “Hi, my name’s Dan Rowney, I’m Karen Johnson’s partner. You interviewed her about Valerie Atkins’s murder.”

  “Yes, has she remembered something else? She’s all right isn’t she?”

  “Yes, yes. Have you requested that the police call and ask more questions? We’ve just had a visit and I’m uncomfortable with that. No pre call, they just turned up at the apartment.”

  “Not that I’m aware. Give me a second.” Liz brought up the case notes on screen and checked to see if any requests for county force co-operation had been requested. There was nothing. “Why are you suspicious, Dan?” She double-checked the file whilst she was speaking.

  “They, a male and a female, arrived in a blue Range Rover but I’ve never seen a plain police car with a tow-bar and a GB sticker unless you’re using your own vehicles now!”

  “The cuts haven’t gone that far I’m pleased to say. That’s observant. I don’t suppose you got the number?”

  “Indeed, it was parked in my allocated space. They couldn’t read either!”

  Liz smiled. “Leave it with me. Ask Karen to make a note of all that they asked and if you can, jot down a description of them both. I’ll get someone round within the hour. When they arrive they’ll use the words Spa Town that’s so you know they are legit. Give them all the details you can. I’ll chase this registration and be in touch.”

  Liz checked the numbers for Val’s friends who had attended the reunion weekend and dialled each one. Both Nancy Anders and Gail Gough had received visits from the police regarding the whereabouts of Valerie’s computers. They each gave a brief description of the officers and in both cases they appeared to be the same, a male and female officer. She dialled Sheila Walsh’s mobile. There was no answer.

  An email appeared on her desktop screen. The registration plate should be presumed to be cloned with further checks in progress. The car was registered to a farmer in Scotland. Within minutes, Liz had requested that South Yorkshire Police put an immediate watch on Sheila Walsh’s home. Liz had given details of the vehicle and liaised with West Yorkshire for them to forward descriptions of the people impersonating officers as soon as they had the information. She had also tried to activate a watch on ANPR (Automatic Number Plate Recognition) but it had already been done. She relaxed a little, stretching her legs under the desk, trying to push blood into her toes; her feet were numb. She checked her watch.

  Within twenty-minutes she had received a full description of the impersonating officers and confirmation that West Yorkshire were liaising with South Yorkshire. It was now a waiting game. There was a likelihood that they would not approach Walsh on the same day but there was no guarantee. She added all the notes to file, uploaded and decided to head home.

  ***

  Karen and Dan had given as much information as possible and the officers left full of assurances that they should not be contacted again. Another two word code was given to ensure that if they were, then they would know if it were legitimate.

  “I’m pissed off and bloody famished! Come on, the pub calls,” Dan moaned taking a deep breath.

  Karen smiled. “My hero.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Why would anyone be murdered for things stored on a computer, why?”

  Dan held her coat. He didn’t have the heart to tell her. Besides Valerie had sworn him to secrecy when she had handed him the computers. She had called him that day and asked him to drop Karen off and then wait for her in Princess Square; she had something for him. It all seemed very dramatic. Keep them at work with all the others you look after. What’s on these is my future. I’m going to be back where I was, Dan, you just wait and see. He remembered that she had seemed so nervous, had kept looking around as she handed the plastic carrier bag through the passenger window, yet also so excited. You must promise me to tell no one, definitely not Karen if you love her. It’ll be all right; I’l
l be safe once it’s out there but until then… He recalled that she had winked at him and smiled. He had laughed, thinking she might already be a little drunk and would be calling him on Monday to ask for some repair work or virus removal. That was her usual style but he had been so wrong.

  With her death and after the visit, Dan’s curiosity had started to gnaw away and expose a cruel fear. Whatever was stored was obviously dangerous and the last thing he wanted right now was to put Karen in harm’s way.

  “Thought you were famished, Dan Rowney. I’m standing here like cheese at tuppence and you’re in a daydream. Anyhow, clever clogs, what is the difference between Easter and Pentecost?”

  Dan laughed for the first time since arriving home. “Seven weeks.” He collected the keys and they left the flat.

  ***

  The blue Range Rover had shed the cloned plates, peeled from the originals beneath. The vehicle headed away from Netherthong before turning left up Thick Hollins Road. The destination was Denshaw and then the M62. They were professional and covered their tracks well, nothing was taken for granted so they stuck to the speed limits.

  “Make a crap copper, me. My eyes were all over the place and all over her. Christ I could’ve given her one there and then! Tasty. Wonder if she liked to party like her bloody mate, sex-ee Valer-eee.” He exaggerated the end of each word so as to form a lascivious grin before allowing his tongue to flash in and out of his mouth. “Could see her on a video spread across that bloody table with me behind her.” He took one hand off the wheel and grabbed his crotch. “Dan wouldn’t be in the fucking equation then I can tell you that for sure. Charles would like to watch that too.”

  “He’s more interested in you than her! I’m as safe as houses but he still bloody terrifies me that man. He’s like a bloody chameleon; one minute he’s as hard as bloody nails, testosterone flying everywhere and then he turns down his wrist, his voice moves up an octave and he’s everyone’s favourite queer.”

 

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